Samantha Giddings, known to her friends simply as Sam, stood on the deck of the Washington lodge, staring out at the snowy landscape. The air was crisp, the kind of cold that made her cheeks flush and her breath visible. She loved it up here—the peace, the isolation, the way the mountains made the world seem smaller. But today, her mind was far from peaceful. It had been a year since that horrible night, the night that had changed everything for all of them. And yet, somehow, here they were again, back at the lodge, trying to reclaim something they had lost.

The lyrics of Taylor Swift's "Hits Different" played over and over in her head: "I pictured you with other girls in love, then threw up on the street." She hadn't planned on coming back to this place. It was too filled with memories—good, bad, and everything in between. But her friends had convinced her it was time to move on, to make new memories. And part of her wanted that. But another part of her couldn't shake the feeling that everything had changed between them, even if no one wanted to admit it.

The sliding door opened behind her, and she turned to see Michael Munroe, or Mike, stepping out. He gave her that easy grin of his, but Sam could see the weariness behind his eyes. He was good at hiding it, but she had known Mike long enough to see through the façade.

"Hey, you okay?" Mike asked, leaning against the railing beside her.

Sam smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... thinking."

Mike nodded, staring out at the mountains. "Yeah. It's weird being back here, huh?"

"More than weird," Sam replied, her voice soft. "But I guess we're all trying to move on."

Mike let out a small chuckle, though it lacked its usual charm. "Move on. Yeah, that's what we're doing, right?"

Sam glanced at him, her heart aching a little. She knew Mike had been through a lot. They all had. But there was something different about the way he carried himself now—something heavier. And she didn't know how to help him with that.

Before she could say anything else, the door slid open again, and Jessica Riley stepped out, her high-pitched laugh cutting through the quiet air. She wrapped her arms around Mike from behind, her face lighting up when she saw Sam.

"There you are!" Jess exclaimed, her voice bubbly as always. "We were wondering where you disappeared to."

Sam smiled at her, though she couldn't help but notice the way Jess's eyes lingered on Mike, like she was holding onto him for dear life. Jess had always been confident, a little too much at times, but since that night, Sam had seen a different side of her—a more vulnerable side.

"I just needed some fresh air," Sam said, pushing her hands into her pockets. "It's kind of intense in there."

Jess nodded, though her smile faltered for a moment. "Yeah, I get that. But we should all stick together tonight. It's... important."

Sam knew what Jess was hinting at. Tonight wasn't just any night—it was the anniversary of the night they had all barely escaped with their lives. And while they were here to try and move on, none of them could ignore the weight of that.

"Don't worry," Sam said gently. "I'm not going anywhere."


Inside, the lodge was filled with the warm glow of the fire, and Christopher Hartley, or Chris, was busy tinkering with an old game console he had found in one of the closets. He muttered to himself as he tried to get it working, occasionally glancing over at Ashley Brown, who was sitting nearby with a book in her lap. Ash wasn't reading, though. Her eyes kept drifting to Chris, watching him with a small, affectionate smile.

"You're not going to fix it, you know," Ash teased, breaking the silence.

Chris glanced up, grinning. "Oh ye of little faith! Just wait—one more minute, and you'll be begging to play Mario Kart with me."

Ash rolled her eyes, though her smile widened. "Uh-huh. Sure."

They had always had this playful back-and-forth, but ever since the night of the incident, their connection had deepened. There was something unspoken between them now, something that hadn't been there before. And while neither of them had officially acknowledged it, it was there, hanging in the air between every joke and every shared glance.

"Okay, fine," Chris said, setting down the controller with an exaggerated sigh. "Maybe you're right. This thing's ancient."

Ash laughed, closing her book. "I hate to say I told you so, but..."

Chris raised an eyebrow, standing up and walking over to her. "Oh, you love to say it. Admit it."

Ash blushed, her heart skipping a beat as Chris stood over her, grinning down at her like a dork. She had always liked Chris, more than she was willing to admit to anyone—especially herself. But the trauma they had gone through together had complicated things. Now, it was hard to tell if what they were feeling was real, or if it was just their shared experience binding them together.

"I guess you know me too well," Ash said softly, her eyes meeting his.

Chris's grin faltered for a moment, and he sat down beside her, his expression growing more serious. "Ash... can I ask you something?"

She nodded, her heart racing. "Of course."

Chris hesitated for a second, then looked down at his hands. "Do you ever feel like... we're supposed to be different now? Like, after everything that happened, we should have changed. But I don't know... I don't feel that different. I still feel like the same idiot I've always been."

Ash blinked, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. She had never heard him talk like this before, and it made her heart ache for him.

"You're not an idiot, Chris," she said gently. "And it's okay if you don't feel different. We all deal with trauma in our own way. It doesn't mean you're supposed to change overnight."

Chris looked at her, his eyes soft. "Yeah, but... I don't know. I just don't want you to think I haven't changed at all. Especially not after everything we've been through."

Ash's breath caught in her throat, and she reached out, placing her hand on his. "Chris, I don't think that. I could never think that."

For a moment, they just sat there, their hands intertwined, the warmth of the fire the only sound in the room. Ash's heart raced in her chest, and she wondered if now was the time to say something—anything—about the way she felt. But before she could, the front door opened with a loud bang, and Emily Davis and Matthew Taylor—Matt—stumbled in, laughing and covered in snow.

"Sorry to interrupt!" Emily called, shaking snow out of her hair. "We just got in from a snowball fight. Who knew Matt was such a terrible aim?"

Matt rolled his eyes, brushing snow off his jacket. "Hey, I wasn't that bad!"

Chris and Ash both jumped up from the couch, their moment lost. Chris shot Ash a sheepish grin before turning to the newcomers.

"Sounds like you guys had fun," Chris said, his tone light, though Ash could sense the tension still lingering between them.

"Of course we did!" Emily replied, beaming. "It's freezing out there, but totally worth it."

Matt nodded, though he looked a little more reserved. He had been quieter than usual ever since the incident, and while Emily seemed to be bouncing back, Matt had a harder time shaking off the memories of that night.

As the group settled in, Sam, Mike, and Jess rejoined them, filling the room with a mix of laughter and conversation. But even with the lighthearted banter, there was an unspoken tension in the air—a tension that came from being back in this place, surrounded by the ghosts of their past.


Later that night, after most of the group had turned in, Sam found herself sitting by the fire, lost in thought. She hadn't expected this weekend to stir up so many emotions, but being back at the lodge had brought everything to the surface.

As she stared into the flames, the lyrics from "Hits Different" played in her mind: "I used to switch out these Kens, I'd just ghost... rip the bandaid off and skip town like an a*hole outlaw." The truth was, Sam had always been good at moving on—at letting go when things got too complicated. But this? This was different. These people were her friends, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't walk away from them.

The sound of footsteps made her look up, and she saw Mike approaching, a tired but thoughtful look on his face.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, sitting down beside her.

Sam shook her head. "Too much on my mind."

Mike nodded, staring into the fire with her. "Yeah. Same."

For a few moments, they sat in comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire filling the space between them. Then, Mike spoke again, his voice softer this time.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," he said. "About how things ended with Jess. About how I handled everything."

Sam looked at him, surprised by the admission. "You two seem fine now."

"Yeah, we are," Mike replied, though his voice held a hint of doubt. "But I don't know if we're actually fine, or if we're just pretending to be. And I guess... I don't want to pretend anymore."

Sam's heart went out to him. She had known Mike for a long time, and while he had a reputation for being the charming, cocky guy, she also knew there was more to him than that. He cared, deeply, even if he didn't always show it.

"You don't have to pretend," Sam said gently. "Not with us."

Mike smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks, Sam. I just... I don't know how to fix everything."

Sam reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "You don't have to fix it all at once. Just take it one step at a time."

Mike looked at her, his eyes softening. "I'm trying. I really am."

For a moment, Sam thought he might say more, but instead, he stood up, giving her one last smile before heading toward the stairs.

"Goodnight, Sam," he said quietly.

"Goodnight, Mike," she replied, watching him disappear into the darkness of the hallway.

As she sat by the fire, alone once again, Sam couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. They had all come back to this place to move on, to heal, but the truth was, none of them were the same as they had been before. And maybe that was okay. Maybe, like the lyrics of the song, they just had to accept that some things hit different—and that was part of life.

With a sigh, Sam stood up and headed to bed, the weight of the past still heavy on her shoulders but the promise of tomorrow a little brighter.